


Out of the Fire

by hazelthewitchpseud (hazelthewitch)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female Derek Hale, Female Stiles Stilinski, magic related dub con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 18:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelthewitch/pseuds/hazelthewitchpseud
Summary: Under the influence of a hunter's poisoned arrows, Stiles gets a taste of being with Derek. When she wakes the next morning, she realizes she wants it to be real.She just has to convince Derek of that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bilesandthesourwolf (snb123)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snb123/gifts).



> A post-season 3b senior year, in which Stiles and Derek have always been female. 
> 
> \----------------
> 
> Many thanks to the organizers of [eternalstereksecretsanta](http://eternalstereksecretsanta.tumblr.com/).
> 
> To [bilesandthesourwolf](http://bilesandthesourwolf.tumblr.com/), happy holidays from your secret santa! I'm sorry it's not done for you but I will keep posting after Christmas. I hope you like it.

"Holy shit," Stiles pants when she finally breaks away to breathe. "Why haven't we been doing this all along?"

"Stiles." Derek strokes a hand down her cheek. "You have no idea how much I--"

But for once Stiles isn't in the mood for talking. She presses her mouth into Derek's again. Her lips are full and they're soft and they meet hers like sparks flying.

Then Derek steps back.

"Inside?" she asks, dragging her thumb gently over Stiles's lower lip. Stiles makes a desperate sound. She tightens her grip on Derek's leather jacket, trying to tug her back in.

But Derek just cocks a dark brow and pointedly looks up and down Stiles's street. The sun has barely sunk behind the houses and the blue-gray sky still lights the street.

"It's fine. I don't care," Stiles insists. A part of Stiles knows that that's a lie. But Derek is here and Derek wants her and Stiles _needs_. Inside may be just the other side of her front door but right now it's impossibly far away.

"You might care when your father arrests you for public indecency," Derek says, even she slips her hands around Stiles's sides, under her hoodie. Derek's fingers are like flames on her skin and Stiles fails to suppress a moan.

"Keys?" Derek asks.

Stiles whines instead and surges forward to kiss Derek again. This time Derek doesn't pull away. Instead, she deepens the kiss as she turns Stiles and pushes her back.

She can feel Derek's hand run up the side of her thigh and her head knocks back into the front door as she arches into her touch.

"Derek," she lets out. She can feel Derek's lips twist against hers into what might be a smile and she feels Derek's hand push into her front pocket. "What are you--?"

Then she hears the jingle of her own keys as Derek pulls them out. She can't remember why Derek wants her keys, but it's not important. She can have them as long as she keeps kissing her like this.

But then she hears the twist of a lock and falls backward as the door swings open. A strong arm catches her.

"You," she tries to accuse, but it's all she can get out. Derek's manhandling her through the door, then shutting it and shoving Stiles back up against the inside.

Derek's eyes are dark as she looks Stiles up and down. Stiles lets out a desperate sound and then there's a flash of predatory blue. Derek pushes her harder into the door, pressing her body in close into hers, and kisses her, less control and more hunger than before.

"Jesus," Stiles lets out.

"Stiles," Derek says with a low growl that hits Stiles right in her groin.

She grabs at Derek's jacket. Derek takes a half step back to help her yank it off and Stiles tosses it across the front hallway. Derek, in turn, unzips Stiles's hoodie and strips it off of her.

But instead of coming back in to kiss her again, Derek grabs her upper arm. Stiles glances down at where Derek's looking at the bloody tear through her long-sleeve t-shirt.

"You told me it barely got you," Derek says, expression hardening.

"It's fine. It's nothing," Stiles says. She grabs Derek by her beautiful, beautiful hips and tries to tug her back in. "I can't even feel it anymore."

Derek's eyes flick back to hers.

"Please," Stiles begs.

Whatever Derek finds in her eyes must be reassuring because she finally presses her lips back into Stiles's. Stiles tightens her grip on her hips and Derek presses her body back into hers. Stiles can feel Derek's round breasts against her chest, her thigh push in between Stiles's thighs.

"Derek," she whines into her mouth. Their kisses have turned sloppy, desperate as she bucks into the friction of Derek's thigh through two layers of denim. "I need--just--more. Please."

"I know," Derek says, voice low and tense with something Stiles can't name. Stiles feels Derek's hands under the backs of her thighs and she wraps her legs around Derek's waist, her arms tight around her neck.

Stiles is vaguely aware of Derek carrying her up the stairs to her room. But all Stiles can pay attention to is Derek's tongue, Derek's hands squeezing her ass, the friction Stiles needs but can't quite get.

The next thing she knows, her back hits the comforters covering her bed and Derek is crawling over her like the predator she is. Stiles arches up into Derek when she kisses her neck and then scrapes her teeth against her skin.

"Oh god, Derek," Stiles moans. She runs trembling hands up Derek's sides, traces the muscles of her stomach, the ridges of her ribs, the bottom curve of her full breasts.

Stiles gropes at Derek's breasts through her shirt and bra. Her hands are shaking and she squeezes harder than she means to. Derek shudders above her with a groan and then slides her hand between Stiles's legs. Stiles can feel her fingers on her, even through the denim. She arches into it as Derek kisses her again.

"Tell me you're mine, Stiles," Derek says into her lips.

"I'm yours. I'm so yours," she says. And it feels true.

It must be the right thing to say, too, because Derek shoves her further up the bed and growls as she reaches for the buttons of her jeans.

"I'm going to die," Stiles finds herself saying. She's more desperate, more turned on, than she's ever been before.

She feels more than hears Derek's soft laugh against her neck as she says, "You're not going to die."

But Derek is wrong. Because Stiles is on fire. Flames lick up her body as Derek shoves a hand down into her unbuttoned jeans. She pushes the tips of her fingers under her panties to slide over Stiles's clit.

"Please. Please," she cries. She can feel Derek's other hand slides up under her shirt, can feel the heat of her hand against her skin. She's never going to make it out of this.

But then Derek suddenly pulls back, hand slipping out of her panties.

"Come on, don't stop, please," Stiles hears herself saying. She's so close. Her vision is dark around the edges. All she can see is Derek hovering over her, an expression on her face she can't identify.

"What's going on?" At least Stiles thinks that's what Derek's saying. Her voice is distant and the words are all blurry.

Stiles struggles to sit up because Derek is still so far away.

"Stiles, your heart--what's happening?"

Stiles can barely see and she can't breathe and, still, she _needs_.

"Tell me what's going on," she thinks Derek is saying. She sounds almost -- scared?

Stiles opens her mouth but she can't get her tongue to form words. Her own body is far away, numb and clumsy while Stiles burns inside.

"Don't do this," she hears someone begging. "Stiles, please don't do this."

The flames engulf her anyways.


End file.
